


Four times Thomas allowed Michael to cuddle him (two times Michael didn’t show – and one time Thomas said Screw My Pride)

by iceyly



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceyly/pseuds/iceyly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Shot – Well, it was supposed to be a ‘one-time-thing’, but when it comes to his little brother, Thomas does have a hard time not giving in at times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four times Thomas allowed Michael to cuddle him (two times Michael didn’t show – and one time Thomas said Screw My Pride)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I figured this fic would be a monster and it really turned out to be one. I can’t remember the last time I wrote over 8k for a one shot. But it’s done and I’m really happy with how it turned out! 
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s one of Thomas’ earliest memories – more an impression if he thinks back in later years – he’s sitting on the settee before their mother’s dressing room, feet swinging because he’s been told to wait but is _boring_. It hasn’t been long since he’s turned one, two, three and they are soon to leave to some important place or event - he won’t remember what exactly, but he remembers complaining about scratchy cloths and squirming where he sits until his mother sweeps out of the room and down the hallway (“Stop swinging your feet, Thomas!”).

She returns moments (an eternity) later, Michael – also already dressed in his best cloths - up against her hip, the toddler fussing, but his face brightens at the sight of his brother and he giggles and waves and squeals “Tomaaa-nii!” (he’s still a long way off mastering the pronunciation of his name properly) as if they hadn’t spent the largest part of the day together already - and then their mother sets him down and leans over to Thomas, smiling as she tugs back a strand of hair behind his ear (like it won’t turn wild in a moment again anyway) and tells him to watch Michael for a minute and make sure that he doesn’t run off.

Which is, of course, what happens hardly a second after Mother left them and Thomas huffs as he pushes off, lands on the ground and goes after Michael – and that are the good things about being older, he is taller _and_ a lot faster, so at least his brother doesn’t get far before Thomas catches up and wraps his arms around him with a mumble of “Mother said to wait” and it takes all his strength to lift Michael off the ground and turn around towards the dressing room with his brother squirming in his grip but somehow he manages.

Until Michael’s protests lead to an unlucky hit against his shin and Thomas yelps as he looses his balance and a moment later he’s blinking up at the ceiling and he can feel the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes – his head _hurts_ \- but he fights them furiously, because as Father likes to tell him, he’s _not_ a baby anymore. No, the baby of the family is actually sitting on his stomach and looks like he can’t quite decide whether to throw another giggle fit or start wailing. 

Eventually he just decides that Thomas’ chest makes a much better place to sit on than the settee and it takes some squirming and protesting on Thomas’ part until he can pull Michael off enough so that he can sit up properly at least, but that’s when Michael decides to present him with another problem by throwing his arms around him and clinging onto him with all his weight so that getting up becomes an impossibility, and upon being told to “Let go!” he just grins up cutely at Thomas and honestly, he has really no idea just why Michael thinks this is so funny.

They are however close enough to the dressing room that it probably counts as not having Michael let run off and so Thomas just sighs and pouts over Michael’s head while he lets him cling to him some more.

When their mother returns just minutes later, she smiles and chuckles before she crouches down and coaxes Michael to loosen his grip and upon Thomas’ insistence that “It’s not my fault!” she tugs back that strand of his bangs again and runs her fingers to his chin to hold him in place as she leans forward to kiss his forehead and tells him: 

“I know, sweetie.”

\----

Thomas sleeps, as a rule, like a log; or so he’s told at least, and given that it takes _a lot_ of noise to wake him up those few times that he finishes up lessons earlier and gets to curl up in his favorite seat in the playroom and think of what games to play this afternoon while he waits for Michael – because rules say first done gets to choose – and sometimes falls asleep because waiting is boring and so is playing by himself, and his brother is taking forever, there’s probably some truth to it.

Still, he snaps awake immediately when one night something (or someone?!) bounces onto his bed and crawls under his covers, and he can’t help but squeal and scramble back against the headboard when something cold presses against his calves. It takes him a minute to calm down enough to start hearing the storm howling outside his window and then he finally notices the shivering ball of… well there really is only one person that fits the bill in the entire household and after the rude wake-up-call, Thomas is decidedly grumpy when he narrows his eyes, throws back the blankets to reveal the culprit and hiss: “What the hell, Michael?” 

His brother just draws the blanket closer; he looks small as he eyes Thomas from behind his bangs, but still he mumbles “You are not supposed to swear” which Thomas just snorts at and dismisses with an impatient wave of his hand before he scoots closer and crosses his arms over his chest, putting on his best imitation of Chris’ stern!face when he asks: “What are you doing here?”

Just a second later, lightning strikes - thunder following shortly after – and Michael flinches and draws the blanket over his head and that alone pretty much answers everything already. 

“It’s loud outside.”

There are so, so many things that Thomas could reply to that, some teasing, some almost nasty, all of them totally deserved considering that he just got woken up over a little bit of bad weather, but now that he’s calmed from his own moment of fright, he’s just feeling tired and irritated and it’s not like he still can’t tease his brother over this in the morning, when he’s had more time to think of something witty, so he just shakes his head and sighs: “Go back to bed, Michael.”

Michael takes his time before drawing back the covers again, and he’s biting on his lower lip as he looks up to him with that big-eyes-look that Thomas has learned to be wary of because it usually means that his brother wants something. And just as he thought, the question comes: “May I stay with you tonight, nii-sama? Please?”

The answer should be clear, should be a “Hell, no!” put down with absolute certainty and no room for objections or further queries, but instead Thomas finds himself hesitating at the look on Michael’s face, even more so when another bout of lightning hits, thunder echoes through the room and his brother’s hands clench in his covers. Eventually he sighs again, rolling his eyes like he always does when he thinks that Michael is being a baby and huffs a short “Fine.” before reclaiming his spot under the blankets (and he is most certainly not feeling happy at all about the way his brother’s eyes light up and is very annoyed that Michael interprets the permission to stay in his bed as invitation to throw his arms around him and cuddle up close like he’s some kind of stuffed animal, but at this point he’s becoming too tired again to say much of anything against it).

From that point on, Michael fades to sleep quickly, even with the storm outside, and Thomas finds himself joining fast – despite the cold feet pressing against him; just another thing to put on the tally of things to complain about in the morning - but there is one last thing he’s got to put out there and make very clear before they both drift into sleep.

“This is a one time thing, got it?”

He isn’t sure if Michael’s heard him, despite the way he’s muttering agreement into his chest, but that just means he’ll have to be sure to repeat himself in the morning, right?

\----

The entire household has been tense the whole day, they’ve both felt it from breakfast on, from the worried glances Maria hadn’t been able to resist and the distracted way the tutors had been treating him hadn’t helped dispersing Thomas’ suspicions that _something_ is up any. He’d snapped by the time the afternoon had rolled around, had gone and demanded an answer to why everyone was acting so weird, Michael right behind him, and all that’s gotten them is “Please wait for your brother to come home” and that Chris would explain, and a very, very unpleasant feeling in his stomach that something has happened to their father. (Because if something big and important had happened, shouldn’t it be Father who announces it? Shouldn’t they be waiting for Chris _and_ Father?)

He’s keeps standing in the kitchen for a while, eyes to the ground and his hands clenching and eventually Michael just tugs on his sleeve and then slips his hand from there to Thomas’ and he doesn’t say anything as they interlace their fingers, or as they climb up the stairs and find their way back to the playroom where Chris would usually teach them about Duel Monsters a little later in the day, and when Michael throws his arms around him once they sit on the settee, Thomas just pulls him up and hugs back hard while settling his chin on his brother’s head and really, really wishes Chris was here already.

And just as he thinks that, there is a warm weight settling against his back, and a low whine next to his ear as Alexander settles right behind him and nuzzles against his cheek over his shoulder and Thomas should scold him and send him off the settee, because The Dog Is Not Allowed On The Furniture, but he can’t really bring himself to, not right now, so instead he leans back into warm fur. 

He’s too worried, too upset, and too certain that for once even the worst stickler for rules among their staff will make an exception – something is up, something involving Father, something bad, and nobody is telling them anything and _still_ he knows and Michael knows too, because neither of them has been raised to be _stupid_. 

The silence weights heavy in the room and in between them, is making everything even more depressing, and Thomas finds himself wanting to lift it, wanting to say _something_ to make it go away, to make things better and eventually he just snaps and says: “I bet they are making a lot of fuss over nothing anyway.”

Michael draws back a little at that, a questioning look on his face and Thomas’ mind starts racing as he tries to come up with a plausible answer, shrugging and licking his lips as he starts talking: “Father said that they were getting pretty close to finding the entrance to the alternate dimension, right? So that’s probably what happened. They found it and he got caught up in with that, and that’s why he can’t come home straight away.” 

His brother nods slowly, while Thomas leans back, making himself more comfortable as he continues to spin the story, because now that he’s started to talk, he finds that he can’t stop.

“It’d be big news, right? Who knows, maybe his majesty, the King, heard of it and summoned Father to knight him. There’s a lot of ceremony that goes with that, so it probably takes forever until it gets done. Loads of silly robes and customs and they probably have to polish the swords and wash up in the palace and things. Since it’s such a bit thing.” 

He glances down at Michael, smirking faintly as his brother sits back again and giggles at the thought, a small smile on his face, and with just that the oppressing air in the room is gone and breathing has become a little easier again.

“Just wait; he’ll come back as Sir Byron Arclight, Knight to the Crown of the United Kingdom. You’ll see.”

He probably won’t, a tiny, but insistent part of himself tells him, because if any of what he just told Michael was told, then it would be all over the net and their tutors would surely have brought it up more than once already, would have been excited rather than uptight, even if they had been instructed to keep it secret from them – and surely Thomas would have heard some remark about what a great thing their father and brother had accomplished and how he could do similarly well one day, if he only would apply himself properly _now_. Still, he ignores that voice in favor for the fantasy he’s just created, because it’s just cheered up his brother and it’s a comforting thought to focus on and what good is worrying when they won’t be told anything until Chris comes home anyway?

Michael doesn’t notice where his mind has wandered and doesn’t show any signs of similar thoughts – even though there is some chance that he has them too – and that’s really just for the best. Instead he leans forward, bracing himself on his knees, eyes gleaming in wonder as he asks: “But if Father becomes a knight, then what would that make us?”

Thomas crosses his arms at that, thinking back to everything he’s ever learned about chivalric ranks and the medieval history of Europe and the UK – and he knows that nowadays, even if their father were knighted, it wouldn’t make them anything much, and he knows that Michael should know that too, but it’s an interesting thought and just might be the start of a fun game; a fantasy just for the two of them, and the first step into it is easy.

“Well, Chris would definitely be his squire. And we’d both be pages.”

Michael nods and laughs and from there on out they get caught up quickly in transforming their modern-day household into that of a thirteenth century estate – their family would be nobility, no doubt, there’d be walls and defenses and convoluted court politics that they are not supposed to know about just yet, but do anyways since the young pages of the house have their ears everywhere – and that keeps them entertained until the evening call for dinner, where Thomas’ attempt at greeting her with the respect and mannerism that any proper knight should show a beautiful lady of high standing (for all that it falls apart the moment Michael starts laughing at him) brings a smile back to Maria’s face as she serves dinner and for a preciously small moment it seems like maybe everything will be just fine after all.

\----

As it turned out their father had neither been knighted nor found the gateway to the alternate dimension the expedition had been looking for. Instead he had vanished, gone mysteriously missing according to the only survivor, or that is at least what Chris had told them upon coming home – face tight and serious and worried like Thomas had never seen it up to that point. The following days are filled with hurry and ‘arrangements’, the whole house buzzing with anxiety until Chris finally takes them aside and tells them how it is, that he can’t stay with them, that their father is most certainly alive, that he will do what can to find him so that they all can be a family again, but that he has to send them away in order to do so.

Thomas doesn’t understand it then, can’t help the knot of hurt in his heart and the tears in his eyes – for all that he tries to swallow them – as they get dragged away by Miss Decelles, because it’s not like Chris hasn’t left them alone before, it’s not like they can’t deal with staying at the house while Chris does whatever he needs to so that he can find Father, so why is he doing this, why is he splitting them up? He learns quickly though, the second day in, when after ‘getting settled’ (or rather being left in a room with two beds and some spare furniture that they are told is now theirs – so very different to what they are used to, so different to what they used to have, but that evening Thomas is too tired to complain and glad that they are left together, even if he doesn’t put it in words) and being dragged around for most of the next day – being told ‘the rules of the house’ and all the places that they are not allowed at (it feels like the majority of the house) – they finally actually get to talk to the other unfortunate souls trapped with them, and after talking to a dark haired girl that’s maybe just a little bit older than Thomas they finally figure that there’s really only three ways to get out of the orphanage again.

And knowing that adoption is just really out of question – they already have family, they don’t need a new one – there really isn’t much choice but to wait until either Chris turns eighteen or finds their father; and that’s the first time Thomas realizes that for all that he and Michael recognize Chris as adult, for all that they consider him grown up and absolutely capable of taking care of them, the rest of the world unfortunately doesn’t agree and that’s why for now, there is absolutely no changing that they are stuck here. (And maybe they are lucky that Chris found a place with Doctor Faker, that he can use the resources there to look for Father, because otherwise he’d probably be stuck here with them, but at least then they’d be together.)

Thomas resigns to staying put after that – Aniki had asked them to wait, to be patient, to stick together and trust in him, and their older brother always knows what he is doing, doesn’t he? – or so he tells himself at least, but even though he knows that they should make the best they can of what they have now, he’s angry – at Father for disappearing, at Chris for leaving them alone, at the whole damn world for being unfair – and between that and some older kid’s teasing at the hard time he and Michael have adjusting from how their lives used to be to the orphanage (“What, rich kid’s gonna start crying?”), he finally snaps and ends up in his first fistfight about three days after arrival.

The first time it happens, Miss Decelles plays sympathetic and blames it on the grief, but when fighting starts to become a regularity with him (even if not all of it is physical and/or his fault at all, but he still ends up being blamed anyway), the look in her eyes becomes more distant, she starts taking his deck for punishment (among other things, but Thomas doesn’t care about detention or being sent to his room) and though nobody says anything to his face, he knows that familiar labels are being applied again – rebellious, troublemaker, problem child – and non of them carry the faint hint of fondness that their staff used to have back home.

At least there is, for the first time of his life, some advantage to those labels, because after a while he is no longer sent to talk to any of the prospective parents-to-be – not that anyone would take him anyways, since he’s too old, too loud, too energetic, too rude and a thousand other things that no parent in their right mind would want when they’ve got the choice of a cute, polite and gentle kid like Michael; but it takes a few months until he realizes that the fact that Michael has the power to charm about every adult with a smile and the big-eyes-look that not even Thomas is entirely immune to is for once not working to their advantage.

There are people, pairs, prospective parents asking about his brother, he is told about half a year after their arrival when he comes to Miss Decelles’ office to get back his deck again (he’s lost count of how many times she’s taken it by then), good people, with money, with a great heart for children, who would love nothing more than to give a young child a good home, and Michael is such a good child, so young, so gentle, so brave, so deserving of a good home and future, and yet he keeps refusing any offer he gets. 

“You should talk to him,” she says, “As your brother, he might listen to you and you do want what’s best for him. Don’t you, Thomas?”

He’s stopped listening about halfway through her little speech, frozen to the spot by realization and the feeling of his blood draining away from his face – they are trying to take his brother away, they are trying to take the only family he has left – but the shock is quickly replaced by unspeakable rage – how dare they, how dare _she_ , especially when she of all people should know that Chris is expecting both of them to wait for him, that neither of them should be a prospect for adoption at all – and it’s with that rage that he reaches for his deck, snatching it from the desk as he hisses: “That’s right, I’m his brother. His _family_. _I’m_ what’s best for him and if you ever suggest otherwise again, I’ll send you to hell.”

And with that he turns on his heels, chin held high as he storms out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him, and the thought that he isn’t being called on it, that she was too stunned to even think of a reply to his declaration, does have some satisfaction to it (even though Thomas isn’t entirely sure how to follow through on his threat just yet, but there is no doubt that he will if need be – he is more than creative enough to think of something).

Except… later in the day, when the anger and the buzz of telling her off have faded away, there’s doubts creeping on Thomas’ mind, because Miss Decelles had been right in one point: he _does_ want what’s best for his baby brother, and despite his fierce words, the more he thinks, the more he finds himself faltering (because what does _he_ have to offer, besides being a freakingly useless older brother with temper issues who gets into more trouble than it could possibly be worth?) and eventually he just figures that there is probably no harm in at least bringing it up with Michael.

He honestly tries to be subtle about it at first, just drops hints and waits for him to catch his drift and get some reaction, some notion of how Michael feels about the idea, but for some reason his brother is dead-set on misunderstanding him until Thomas has enough and just stops him in the morning of the next day and asks outright if he wants to leave, to be adopted, to get out of this place. And Michael looks up to him with a frown, says “Don’t be foolish, nii-sama.” and proceeds to ignore him the rest of the day.

Thomas huffs to himself then, and spends the day in a foul mood, but keeps his distance, and in the evening he turns in early, laying with his back turned towards the other bed in the room – Michael isn’t the only one who knows how to play this game, isn’t the only one who knows how to use silence as a weapon (even though it hurts, the silence, the distance between them, that they aren’t sticking together when they should, when each other is the only thing they really have here, but it’s not like he started this) – and ignoring the noise of his brother entering the room and shuffling around, at least until his mattress bends under the weight of someone kneeling at the edge, almost close enough to touch against his back and Michael whispers: “Don’t send me away too.” 

A small noise of realization escapes him then - because of course, that’s what his queries must have sounded like, even though it’s really about the last thing he actually wants – and mutters “Stupid.” under his breath as he turns around to face his brother, though he isn’t even sure if he means himself or Michael or even both of them and just holds himself open in unmistakable invitation. Michael doesn’t hesitate for a second to curl up right next to him and slip his arms around his chest, to bury his fingers in his night cloths and cling just a little, and Thomas drops his arm over his shoulders and clings back.

It’s all apology that will ever be needed, better than anything he could offer up in words, so after a while, he just recounts that conversation from the day before and listens as Michael describes various encounters with potential parents-to-be.

“I guess, most of them are nice enough, but they all said they only want to take one child and I don’t want to leave anywhere without you, nii-sama!” he says at the end before pressing his face into Thomas’ chest, and he really can’t help smiling at that, relief washing through him as he shifts his hand to ruffle through his brother’s hair and answers: “I don’t want you to leave anywhere without me either.”

After a moment he adds: “And I don’t want us to leave to anywhere where Aniki isn’t waiting.”

Michael just nods in agreement and tightens his grip just a little – they are supposed to wait for Chris here after all, this is all temporary no doubt, they just have to believe and wait it out. 

“Christopher-ni-sama is going to find Father, right?” he whispers, and maybe there is just a tiny note of uncertainty to it – uncertainty, never doubt – and Thomas nods back and glares into the darkness, at whoever is responsible for them ending up like this in first place, at the people here who won’t just leave them be, at anyone who might even consider bringing them harm, and swears that whoever all those (mostly) faceless people are, they are not going to let them win.

“He will. He promised he would.”

And Chris usually keeps the promises he makes. They just have to hold out for that and if they just wait long enough, then Chris will come through and when he does they’ll finally be a proper family again. There is no doubting that.

\----

Chris finds their father. He finds him and he comes for them on Christmas Day a little more than two years later, two days after his eighteenth birthday, and though that’s everything they’ve wished and hoped and waited for, as it turns out, they’ve only been thrown from the frying pan into the fire.

Because Chris has changed, is cold and angry and bitter, is _V_ and not really the brother that Thomas had grown up with at all and their father is even worse – a child much smaller and younger than Michael, driven by the thought of revenge and insistent to make his desire their all – and Thomas fights it all at first, fights Tron, fights V, fights the plan, because this isn’t what has they just spent the better part of the last three years waiting for, but of course, he finds quickly that like always, his opinion doesn’t matter much to anyone.

Now – over a year later – all that’s left of him is IV, because a month ago Thomas set fire to a warehouse and dragged out the girl he apparently had been supposed to leave there to burn, and though Tron hadn’t said as much, he knows he’s disappointed him then. Thomas had been weak, and that weakness had cost him what little favor he’s ever had with Tron, but IV swears he’ll regain that, because he won’t make the mistakes that Thomas made (he’ll never show mercy to anyone).

IV is what’s left and he’s determined to excel in his role; he sets up Ryoga Kamishiro to fall from grace and doesn’t feel anything but glee and satisfaction as it all works out _perfectly_ , and he can’t help a tiny, smug smirk at the look of shock on Ryoga’s face when his disqualification is announced, when he pales and despairs and makes the most beautiful face, because he’s just let down the person that means the most to him, hasn’t he?

It’s a duel won, one step down to the road of creating IV, the Duel Monsters Asia Champion, to fulfilling the role that Tron has envisioned for him and winning back his trust, and IV has no doubts that he’ll make it, that he can prove himself to Tron, and he doesn’t care who he has to step on for that.

Michael- _III_ , is not nearly as free of qualms (he has that freedom, he doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, because he still is and will always be the favorite), and the way he bites on his lip, like he’s trying to keep polite while they discuss that duel with Ryoga, like there is a lot he wants to say, but isn’t for whatever reason, not that IV cares about whatever III thinks.

Nor does he care about the faint disapproval in his voice as he argues: “You forced him into cheating.”

He really can just snore at that and feel annoyance quelling in his stomach, because of course III would see it like that, of course he doesn’t have a clue what it means to dirty his hands, but that would probably come soon enough and so he just shrugs and waves him off: “I didn’t force him into anything. He cared too much about his precious little sister, it made him weak and I just took advantage of that. And besides, it was all done as Tron ordered.”

And as V and III both like to remind him, Tron’s orders are absolute. So that’s that, he thinks and turns to leave – the play-offs for the asia tournament are starting soon and he has to start preparing for that, because for all that he is confident in his deck and his abilities, there is actually a challenge to be found beyond the national level – but III isn’t quite finished yet, is calling after him with one last question: “Is that really what you think? Is caring really a weakness?”

It has IV hesitating for just a second, halts in his step, because he can sense the questions beyond that one, he knows what Michael is really asking, that they are no longer talking about Ryoga and that duel (and maybe they never have really talked about that at all) and he knows Thomas would have laughed and rolled his eyes, would have turned and taken the few steps needed to cross the distance and reach to ruffle his baby brother’s hair, would have said “Don’t be stupid.” and meant “I love you.”, but Thomas had been weak and now he might as well be dead, there is just IV instead and IV cannot act as Thomas would have.

He doesn’t turn, he doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t look at III while he replies – “Of course I do.” – and leaves before his brother can work up any sort of reaction to that.

Later, in the night of the same day, he wakes up to the sounds of the winds storming outside and thunder rolling in the far, and for a second he’s confused, and blinks in irritation, because it’s not the storm that’s woken him, he usually sleeps right through the noise.

Except, no he doesn’t, something, somebody – Michael – should have woken him by now, should be asking for permission to stay for the night, should be getting grumbling agreement before they curl up and drift back to peaceful sleep, but there is nobody but him in his room and bed, no noise other than the storm and the rain drops pounding against his windows and the thunder.

He stays awake for a little while longer and waits, and prepares to tease his brother about being late, but he stays by himself and eventually he realizes that apparently III has decided that he’d rather not come to him tonight and that’s really all the better, isn’t it? 

At fourteen he is really much too old to come running to hide in his older brother’s bed from a little bit of bad weather and IV likes having his bed all to himself best anyway. Finally he sighs, turns to lay on his stomach, buries his face in his pillow and tries to go back to sleep, firmly ignoring the faint taps of someone’s pacing in the room next to his that he is almost sure he can make out whenever the storm calms just a little, because he _does not care_.

He does no longer have the luxury to.

\----

IV may not have the luxury to care, and given that III certainly knows how to look after himself, given that he can handle himself in almost any situation thrown at him, there really isn’t much need to care or to worry, or that is at least what he tells himself until the very second that III comes home from dueling Yuma Tsukumo and the Number’s Original on Tron’s behalf, pale and faint and tired and falls asleep shortly after. 

It doesn’t look like he’ll wake up any time soon either, and between the anger at III for being so careless, and that at Tron for disregarding them both (but mostly, especially III – _Michael_ – who’s given his all for Tron’s sake, who only ever wanted their family back, who is a good kid, who is _his brother_ ) IV keeps questioning “ _Why?_ ” and never receives an answer; not from Tron and not from V. 

V just stands there, just watches, just seems to have totally forgotten what it means to be an older brother considering that he has absolutely nothing to say, is the ever loyal soldier and he gets nothing but an accusing glare before IV storms off to his own room, because he needs to be ready to play the humble Asia Champion in an hour from now and that’s just utterly out of question unless he finds a moment to reign in his emotions and calm his temper.

Not that it helps much when he catches sight of Ryoga maybe merely two hours later, the long tried and well crafted mask of the Asia Champion breaking within seconds, but he doesn’t have it in him to care about that, not when they are so close to reaching the endgame of the plan anyway – there’s the tournament and then there’ll be Faker, and with that everything will end one way or another – and he doesn’t say anything as Ryoga swears to defeat him with that smug little smile, Ryoga, who’s being chosen above him, above III, who has no history with their family beyond what IV has arranged there to be, who doesn’t have any reason to give his everything against Faker. He just stands there and takes it and pushes down all his pent-up rage because if he says just a word, he won’t be able to stop talking and it’s not like he isn’t already considered useless enough, so at least he needs to stop himself from running his mouth.

He returns to the party then, watches Heartland arrive, watches Tron introduce himself and uses the chaos that follows that to disappear, but rather than returning to his own room, he finds himself drawn to the large hall where Tron usually resides and watches his cartoons, where III now rests and it will probably be a while until Tron and V return from whatever business they have with those duel mercenaries. 

Not that IV cares much about whatever they are up to as long as it doesn’t affect him, but with all the prods to his temper and ego he’s suffered today, it will probably take just a word of either of them to make him explode at them and with the duels ahead on the next day they can probably all do without that, so instead he goes to the only person who doesn’t set him off with just a word, who can’t because he’s stuck in a god damn coma (who once upon a time, years ago, before there had been III or IV, when it had just been the two of them, would have sensed his bad mood, would have slipped into his personal space without asking and he misses the comfort of physical contact so much, the small gestures between brothers, but they are not those people anymore and IV doesn’t need anyone).

He really isn’t sure what he’s doing here, he thinks as he sits down at the edge of III’s bed, reaches to interlace their fingers and looks at him with a headshake and a mutter of: “You are so stupid.”

To get himself into trouble like this, to go fight a duel that he wouldn’t have needed to fight in first place, not when he’s already gathered all Heartpieces he needs, to do it all for a family that is so broken that it’s probably already beyond repair… and IV isn’t sure if it’s himself or if it’s Thomas who’s thinking this, who thinks bitterly how easily Michael has been discarded – despite being the Favorite – and what that might mean for himself.

And now they are being replaced with _Ryoga Kamishiro_ , who had been weak because he cared, who may have grown stronger, but so has IV – he hadn’t had the Gimmick Puppets and his Numbers a year ago – and even though Tron might be aiming to make Ryoga the assassin against Faker, IV has no intentions to make that easy on him.

He can’t help but reach for his Extra Deck, can’t help but pull out his Numbers and run his thumb along the edge of every single one, of Giant Killer and Heaven’s Strings whom he will definitely both need tomorrow, and of Destiny Leo, the Number that he has never had to use so far, the Number that is so powerful that just running his fingers along the card like he does now makes his crest throb and burn against his skin, the Number that could quite possibly render him into a similar state as III, but using it will be worth it, he knows, if that’s what it takes to defeat Ryoga Kamishiro and prove to Tron that he isn’t as useless as he seems to think, that non of them are.

“Watch me tomorrow.” He whispers and lightly squeezes his brother’s fingers before he pushes off the bed and straightens, sliding the cards back into place and throws one last glance back at his brother before he returns to his room and leaves him in the darkness. “I’m going to win. I’m going to show it to them all.”

To Tron, to V, to Ryoga, to anyone who dares to take him lightly, who thinks that he’ll just roll over and take the insult to his pride. He is going to win and once Ryoga, Kaito, Heartland, Faker are gone and Tron is satisfied, maybe, maybe then they’ll have a father again that has more than insults for them. Maybe then, they’ll have their family back.

\----

IV doesn’t win.

IV doesn’t win and the defeat hits deep and strips away the anger, the rage, the resentment, the hate and leaves him drained and tired and funnily enough, deep down Thomas is grateful to Ryoga, because at last he can stop fighting. He falls to sleep not long after that, the slide against the warmth of his older brother’s still body the last memory before the darkness of the crest’s power sweeps him away into the void.

When he awakens again, he’s been stripped of his cloths and moved to a bed of his own and is suffering a murderous headache, but at least it’s all of them, all three of them awake and well and sharing the sinking feeling that something must have happened to Tron (as well as the uncertainty of whether that had been good or bad), though all worries are dispersed just an hour or so later, when Tron finds them – smiling kindly like he’s used to, like he isn’t Tron, but their _father_ – and tells them that it’s over, that he has given up on revenge, that he just wants them all to go home now. Thomas hadn’t been sure at that moment, whether to react with anger or relief, whether to start shouting or break down crying and maybe some of it shows, because for a second, there’s Chris' hand squeezing his shoulder lightly, steadying, anchoring, and in the end Thomas decides that he’s too tired of it all to react with anything much but happy numbness for the moment.

It doesn’t help much of anything though after they leave Heartland City behind, because now he’s actively avoiding Tron – he can’t forget the way he had screwed with that duel with Ryoga, how he had used them all (even Michael, even Chris) and non of it had ever meant anything, that the perception of his loyalty had been defined by his inability to leave a thirteen-year-old girl to die in the fire he’s started, and even if Michael and Chris are happy to forgive and start anew, even if Thomas’ forgiveness means jack shit in comparison to theirs, their father is not going to get it that easily anyway – and even though he tries, he can’t quite stop snapping at his brothers sometimes (Chris more than often) and it all just frustrates him, because things are supposed to go back to the way they used to be. 

Except that the idea of anything ever going back to how it used to be is just downright laughable – at least for Thomas it is, because before Tron, he might have been a brat and sometimes bad tempered, but fourteen year old Thomas had known right from wrong, had known the difference between teasing and hurting and the lines in between, had never been trapped in the middle of a blaze with a girl that’s even younger than his little brother, hadn’t lost his family’s confidence over that, hadn’t decided that if his role was to hurt people than he might as well enjoy it and defined that his ‘fanservice’.

It’s impossible to return to that, to pretend that nothing has happened in-between then and now, impossible not to remember, and Thomas doesn’t even want to forget – he’s told Ryoga in the heat of their duel that he doesn’t plan to run away, and he meant that; he won’t run from the things he’s done, from the harm and havoc he’s caused, even if it had been at Tron’s orders.

He really doesn’t have much of an idea how to make up for it all yet, but that can come later, when he has a better grip on things, when he’s sorted himself and his emotions out and figured out a way to reconnect with his brothers – his brothers first, because he’s always cared about them most even when he’s said he doesn’t, and now that he isn’t quite IV anymore and not yet Thomas again, the distance between them all is weighting more than ever and he just doesn’t know what to do about that and maybe V is not the only one who’s forgotten how to be a brother after all.

Eventually it’s taken out of his hand, when one night he wakes in the middle of a thunderstorm, groaning faintly because he thought he’s finally gotten out of that habit and throws around a glance in the room, looking for someone he doesn’t really expect to find – except that Michael _is_ standing at the threshold to his room, and for a second Thomas just stares in surprise before he shifts himself up on his elbows, head tilting lightly as he offers a greeting: “Just when I thought you’d really grown out of this…”

He’s mostly amused and in part also glad and happy and hoping, even though he’d really rather bite his tongue than admit to it, but maybe it sounded too much like an accusation, or maybe Michael doesn’t entirely know how to read him anymore, because he bows head and even with the distance and the darkness in between them, Thomas knows he is chewing on his lower lip, before he shakes his head and replies: “Yes… I really am too old, aren’t I? Never mind then… I… I apologize for disturbing your sleep, nii-sama.”

Before he can step back and close the door though, Thomas has already shifted to the side with a sigh and is rolling his eyes at him even though he knows Michael can’t see it, has said “Don’t be stupid.” and hopes that Michael remembers what he really means with that at least.

He doesn’t actually exhale in relieve when his brother does seem to understand and enters his room after all, and curls up at his side like he’s used to, but it’s a close thing, even though there is still just a little distance left, even though they aren’t quite back to how they used to be, it’s a step in the right direction at least, he thinks- and then he flinches away from Michael when there are suddenly cold feet pressing against his and throws him a faintly insulted glare: “You know, if you already spend an hour on pacing before you make up your mind, you could at least put on some socks.”

Michael just offers him the big-eyes-look that isn’t nearly as cute as it was three years ago as well as a smart reply – “Oh, but then I wouldn’t have any reason to come to you.” – and that is not nearly enough to pacify Thomas into letting him escape without punishment and all warning his younger brother gets is the predatory gleam in his eyes before he lunges at him, fingers aiming for his sides and his stomach and all the spots that Thomas to be ticklish.

Not that Michael just stays still and takes it, he’s always given back as good as he’s got, and he always will, and for a moment they are a tangle of limbs and blankets and helpless laughter until Thomas’ advantage of height and weight finally wins out and he’s still laughing breathlessly with his brother trapped in his grip until neither of them is moving to continue the struggle and they are both just still and trying to catch their breath, and then Thomas shifts and changes his hold on Michael to make it a proper hug – surprising him for sure, though it isn’t long until arms slip around his back and Michael hugs him back – leans down to rest his forehead on his brother’s shoulder and hopes that this says everything that he doesn’t quite know how to voice ( _I’m sorryI careI always caredForgive meI love you_ ). 

When they finally draw away a little – just enough to make out each other’s face in the darkness – what distance had remained is gone for good and Michael is smiling in a way that means he understands, that says “I love you too” and Tomas smiles back and revels in the feeling of it all, the warmth, the closeness, the comfort that’s been lost for them for almost two years, a bond once poisoned now revived and he wonders how he could not have missed this any more than he had, how he could ever have forgotten the things that really matter (and he swears he’ll never let go of this bond again, not without a fight).

Eventually the silence, for all that it’s comfortable, comes to an end when the look on Michael’s face changes, he’s still smiling, but his eyes glow with mischief and the knowledge that no matter what he asks, Thomas will (almost) always give in: “So… may I stay with you tonight, nii-sama?”

And as their old routine demands, Thomas huffs in reply – “Fine.” – though it’s really more a laugh because he’s too amused and too damn happy to actually work any note of annoyance into it. They shift around again until they aren’t quite so tied up by the blankets anymore and Thomas drops his arm over his brother once he’s comfortable and cuddled close and fading away into sleep, his weight dropping against Thomas. He can feel himself following quickly enough, a pleasant haze of warmth and drowsiness pulling him into dreams and he sighs as he drops his cheek against Michael’s head, voicing one last thought before his mind slips away into dreams – fully aware of the irony of it and knowing that there’s no way that Michael won’t be teasing, if he remembers in the morning, but he finds that right now he doesn’t care about either of that:

“This better not be a one time thing.”

__

\--- FIN ---


End file.
